


See The Hole In The Wall.  That Is Not A Hole, And Neither Is There A Wall.

by StellarLibraryLady



Series: Star Trek The Gentle Seasons Series [16]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: AU, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Rimming, Anal Scratching, Anal Sex, Dark Humor, Developing Relationship, Explicit Language, Farce, Fingering, First Kiss, First Time, Fred The Fern, Giant birds, Humor, Innuendo, Knothole Love, Knotholes, Licking, M/M, Metamorphoses Reference, Midsummer's Night Dream Reference, Nick Bottom And Francis Flute Reference, Nudist Colony, Nudity, Ovid Reference, Ovid's Metamorphoses Reference, Pre-Relationship, Pulsating Anus, Pyramus and Thisbe, Rimming, Romeo and Juliet References, Scratching, Solaris Three Reference, Star Trek Humor, Stretching, The Egg Shitters, The Font of Venus, Three Finger Stretching of Anus, anal licking, anal stretching, hole in the wall, secret meetings, shakespeare reference, trysts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-06 18:13:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11041575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarLibraryLady/pseuds/StellarLibraryLady
Summary: Further adventures that befall Spock and McCoy on Guakos, home of the giant birds known as the Egg Shitters.  Little did the two Starfleet officers realize that they were visiting a nudist colony.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Egged On : Revenge of The Egg-Shitters](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10575027) by [StellarLibraryLady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarLibraryLady/pseuds/StellarLibraryLady). 



> Mainly inspired from a plot bunny from Esperata. The paradise planet, Prince Elluride, and the giant birds from "Egged On" were all waiting to be written about again.  
> 

“Bones, I want you and Spock to meet with Prince Elluride on Guakos while I am attending that conference in San Francisco. Officially, it is a state visit. But unofficially, it will be a vacation for you, too. You should have a wonderful time. It’s a warm climate with a lot of resorts in the area around the palace. The whole planet is fast becoming quite popular for vacations, in fact. I will be envious, but unfortunately, I cannot attend.”

“Well, this sounds more like it, Jim,” McCoy said with a lazy smile. “About time that Spock and I got some vacation days while you’re slaving away at a conference.”

“You guys deserve it.”

“Yes, sir, lounging by a pool all day and attending parties at night. Tough duty, but I believe that Spock and I can handle it. Isn’t that right, Commander?” McCoy asked as he turned to Spock standing beside him.

“Most assuredly, Dr. McCoy. It sounds intriguing.”

“Why, we might even get some suntan on you. Give you a tan line that will intrigue the pants right off the ladies, IF you know what I mean.”

“Even your sort of intrigue might be acceptable to me, Doctor. Maybe it is about time that I become more adventuresome with the opposite sex.”

“Oh, ho, Jim! Sounds like I’m going to have a tiger on my hands! If you hear something scandalous about us, it’ll be true! And let’s hope that it’s just the tip of the iceberg. You may have to come bail us out of prison if we get into the kind of trouble that I’m hoping we’ll find. Or maybe we might even make it happen ourselves. Blow the dust, and stink, off the locals. Watch out citizens of Guakos! Lock up your pretty girls and handsome goats! The boys are back in town!”

Kirk grinned. “Don’t be going too crazy! Remember that you are representing the Federation in general and the Enterprise in particular.”

McCoy gave him a lazy grin. “And we are also representing James T. Kirk. I believe that in some areas, Captain, your reputation precedes you. We can‘t diminish your sterling record, can we?” He gave Kirk a wise, knowing look. “And that record has nothing to do with the conference table. IF you know what I mean.”

“Now don’t be assuming that you have to equal or exceed my reputation.” He grinned again. “But I’d be disappointed if you didn’t try.”

“Yes sir, I believe that you are sending the right ones to handle this detail. In fact, we might not want to leave, especially if the guards are female. And all of that swimming pool time will probably provide some distraction of the female variety for us.“ He looked Spock over. “We’ll have to get Spock a whole wardrobe of teeny, tiny bikini trunks so there isn’t a whole lot of him that doesn’t get tanned. I expect we should take our dress uniforms. There will probably be a lot of cocktail parties and sit-down dinners that we’ll just ‘have’ to attend!” McCoy grinned, indicating that the fancy affairs would be no problem, at all. “Don’t worry, Jim. I believe that Spock and I can handle this nuisance duty while you’re living it up in San Francisco.”

 

After Spock and McCoy left, Scotty said, “But, Captain, why is Dr. McCoy talking about taking all of those clothes that they won’t be needing? Does he really realize where he’s going? That Guakos is the same kind of planet as Solaris Three?”

“Apparently, he has no idea.”

“But aren’t you going to tell him?! Won’t it be a terrible shock when he discovers that the whole planet is a nudist colony?!”

“Some things, Scotty, a guy just has to discover for himself.”

“You are being ornery, Captain.”

“The only thing I regret is that we won’t be there to witness their reactions.”

“Aye,” Scotty agreed as he returned the grin.

“Scotty, I believe that we’re both ornery.”

“Aye!”

 

“Well, there it is, Spock. Guakos,” McCoy said as he looked out the window of the shuttle. “Have you ever seen anything so green and lush and warm-looking and inviting before?”

“Maybe California after the rainy season.”

“Poor Jim! Back in California, slaving away! Well, you know what they say! When the cat’s away, the mice will play! And I can’t wait to get to the playing part!”

“We do have to meet the dignitaries that I assume will be greeting our shuttle. As official Starfleet representatives, we will be afforded every courtesy, I am certain.”

“I’m counting on that, Spock! Room service from cute maids! Body massages by comely maidens in bursting bikinis. No Ivan will be wanted to flex my muscles! And food! The best of fresh food! Nothing reconstituted for us on this vacation! Yes, sir, Spock! By the end of this duty call, we will be buffed and rejuvenated, inside and out!” He actually winked. “Your own mother won’t even recognize you!”

“That is what I am afraid of, Doctor.”

“Don’t worry, Spock. I’ll return you to the Enterprise in as pristine state as when you left. I’m a doctor. I know things. I’ll be able to restore us. I know I said that I’d show you the ropes, but perhaps I should let Jim have that honor.”

“If you were Vulcan, you would have to state the true facts. I believe that your reason is that you do not wish me slowing you down in your endeavors to become friendly with the female of the species on this planet.”

McCoy’s eyes twinkled as he slapped Spock’s arm. “I can’t get anything past you, can I?! You know me so well!” he said as he charged for the door of the shuttle.

“Sadly, I do,” Spock said with a sigh.

“Come on, Spock! Don’t lag!”

They disembarked and stood on the tarmac.

“Just smell that air, Spock! It’s so pure!”

“It is quite stimulating. As if it was mountain air or supercharged with oxygen.” Spock breathed deeply. "Quite stimulating, indeed.”

“You just wait! I have a feeling that there will be a whole lot on this planet to stimulate us! Look! I believe that must be our welcoming committee under all of those fluttering canopies! Come on, Spock! Let’s go meet the locals! I hope they have a lot of pretty girls with them! Or know where we can find them!”

“No doubt they will know of all sorts of ways to stimulate us, Doctor. But none will be as invigorating as your imagination,” he muttered.

“What? What are you mumbling about, Spock?! Come on! Keep up!”

Spock sighed to himself. He figured he would hear McCoy use those expressions to him more than once during their upcoming holiday. He hoped that it meant that Spock had fallen behind in walking, but he feared that McCoy might use it in dens of iniquity and sin. Spock shuttered when he considered what sort of activities that McCoy would endeavor to have him join. What was the name of this planet again? Babylon?

And then as he walked closer to the smiling natives who had gathered to greet them, Spock thought that perhaps they had landed in sinful Babylon. And so did McCoy. Because, as they got closer to their hosts, some rather startling facts were becoming clear. And it couldn’t be caused by the fact that the people were standing in the shade of canopies.

Spock and McCoy walked toward the line of dignitaries. Men, women, children. Bright teeth. Smiling faces. Eager looks and intelligence shining from their eyes. 

And not a one of the natives was wearing any clothes!

McCoy’s eyes were getting bigger the closer he got to them. Everywhere his eyes darted, he saw the same things. Long, exquisitely dressed hair rustling gently in the breeze. Bare breasts. Exposed genitalia. And nobody was scrambling to cover themselves.

At last he could take it no longer and mumbled out of the side of his mouth, “Spock! What the hell is going on?”

“It appears that we are grossly overdressed for the occasion, Doctor.”

“But, but this is a state visit. All the dignitaries are here.”

“And apparently in the ALL together.”

McCoy made a note to speak with Spock later about his dry sense of humor, if he could remember anything about this meeting except for all of this bare skin facing him.

At that moment an elderly man stepped forward. Shriveled, McCoy thought. Elderly. He realized that on this planet he didn’t have to look at a man’s face to determine his age. A simple glance down would determine real age. On second thought, looking at people’s faces had never bothered him as much as this view did. Up, McCoy, look up, he had to remind himself. The man’s face is up on his shoulders, not below his belt. If the guy was wearing a belt. Or trousers. Or underpants.

“Hail, soldiers of the Enterprise!”

The man’s right arm flew upward in salute and so did other things, McCoy noted. The old man wasn’t as old as McCoy had figured. Or he was spry for his age.

Eyes upward on the old man’s face, shoulders, eyes. Ah, better. Not as intriguing, but better. From his peripheral vision, McCoy could see Spock fighting a grin. Damn it, Vulcan! Stop it! Now is not the time to be developing a sense of humor! Especially when I’m trying to keep a straight face. 

If you laugh, Spock, I will, also, McCoy thought. If that happens, we might as well turn around and get back on the shuttle. Our mission will have failed in ten minutes, from touchdown to liftoff. That will surely be some sort of intergalactic record that will not please Jim Kirk. Plus the story of our insulting the people of Guakos would travel the universe. Not another record that Kirk would want attached to the Enterprise. Kirk was a little touchy about the Enterprise and her reputation. He was kind of like the father of a teenage girl, in that respect.

“Well, I don’t know if we’re soldiers, per se,” McCoy mumbled. “But I’m Dr. McCoy and this is Science Officer Mr. Spock.”

“So happy to greet you,” the old man assured them. “May I present my daughter Demetria?”

A young women in her mid-twenties stepped forward. She had green eyes and blonde hair that reached to her waist. It covered her breasts nicely, but did not extend far enough to hide her other attributes. Her golden triangle was well displayed. McCoy noted that she was a natural blonde. He wondered how Spock was registering this information. He hoped that Spock wasn’t reacting the same way he was to the sight of a young, beautiful, NAKED woman in his immediate vicinity. He hoped that their conditions weren’t noticeable to their host.

Surely, that was a similar problem with other guys in the area. The sight of a beautiful woman was always stimulating, especially if she was unclothed. McCoy knew about male libidos and sexuality. He’d studied that in medical school and had personal knowledge of the phenomenon as much as any other guy in the universe. Young men especially reacted, markedly and often. You didn’t have to be a doctor to know that. McCoy looked around casually. Yep, there was a male response. And another. Nobody seemed to notice. Not the encumbered young men with the obvious problem. Or the young ladies who were the cause of the problem. Or the fathers of the young ladies who were suppose to be escorting and protecting their daughters. He supposed if it was an everyday sight, nobody noticed anymore. But it wasn’t an everyday sight to him and Spock. McCoy wasn’t certain about Spock, but McCoy knew for damn sure that he was noticing! And McCoy figured that Vulcan society was more repressed than Earthling’s.

The old man looked around McCoy toward the shuttle.

“What are those bags being unloaded?” the old man asked with curiosity.

“Well, it’s our luggage.”

“Luggage?”

“Cases in which we carry our toiletries and medications and, ah, clothing.”

“Clothing?”

“You know, articles of apparel similar to what we are now wearing.” He glanced down at his dress blues as if to invite Prince Elluride to do so, also. “This is my customary uniform while on duty. My fellow officer and I thought that it would be appropriate for travel and for greeting you.”

“Well, perhaps. I suggest that we discuss it later. I suppose that you and Mr. Spock would like to see your suite and rest for awhile.”

McCoy smiled. “That would be appreciated, Prince Elluride. I feel that I am in the mood for a little quiet time. I have been experiencing a lot of eyestrain recently.” Quite recently, in fact. But he didn't share that information with his royal host.


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as their door was closed to their suite and they were alone, McCoy turned to Spock.

“What the hell is going on on this planet?!”

“It seems that we have taken our vacation on a seeming paradise. It apparently is a nudist colony, a fact that Jim neglected to share with us.”

“Do you actually think that he knew and didn’t tell us?”

“The possibility is very real, Doctor.”

“But this can’t be real! Pinch me, so I’ll know if I’m awake.”

“I would be only too happy to comply with your request, Doctor, but the bruise might show, no matter what part of your flesh that I select to damage with a hematoma. For now on, until we leave this planet, any injury we do to ourselves and to each other will be obvious to the entire populace.”

“Unless we can get a hold of some pancake makeup.”

“Are you planning on injuring yourself, Doctor?”

“No, but I may aim some pinches and blows in your direction! You’re taking this situation awfully calmly, Spock! Generally you’ve sealed up all points of contact to yourself by this time. Instead of negotiating and trying to find a solution, you stand on the sidelines and judge everyone with those scalding, disapproving eyes of yours. And I don’t see any way out for you this time without your resorting to that type of behavior. Unless you plan on meditating yourself into some sort of vegetative state until the shuttle returns for us. Otherwise, you are going to BE just as exposed to their world as I will be! And you‘re going to GET just as exposed to their world! So buckle up!”

“Doctor. Sometimes one must just bow to convention and realize when one is outnumbered.”

“You're not minding?! What the hell?! You’re choosing one helluva time to let nothing bother you! And to be magnanimous! And to go native! Why isn’t this situation bothering you?!”

Spock took a great deal of pleasure in answering. “Because it is bothering you so much. I believe that I can endure about anything in light of that fact. It will be so entertaining to watch you squirm.”

McCoy huffed. The Vulcan was having way too much fun at his expense, but he couldn‘t help it. McCoy didn‘t realize that he was so prudish until now. 

Then Spock decided to take some pity on him.

“Doctor. This, too, shall pass. We will never see these people again. And if we did, they would be more apt to remember us if we did not give into convention.”

“Go with the flow. Join the crowd. If you can’t fight them, then join them. That’s what you’re saying.”

“I believe that is precisely what I am saying.”

“And I believe it’s more than that! You just had your eyes on that Demetria! I saw the look that you gave her! I know that you said that you wanted to strike out on a sexual adventure of your own with the opposite sex on this little expedition, but must it be with the daughter of the prince?! The NAKED daughter of the prince?!”

“And who else would I choose, Doctor? Everyone is naked.”

Damn the Vulcan’s logic! Because it was true.

Then McCoy had a different thought, especially if he adopted Spock’s thinking.

“I know! I’m just looking at things wrong! Jim intended it as a surprise that would delight us! The old rascal!”

“I may have anticipated more if I had known the true nature of the planet, but still it appears to offer an excellent opportunity to have an adventure with some young lady.”

“You couldn’t ask for a better opportunity, Spock! You’d be seeing what you were getting! It sure as hell would take the guess work out of selecting! Just imagine! Naked women! Everywhere! They were everywhere I looked! What was that nudity scene, anyway? Do you mean that not a one of them could find anything to wear? Not even for state visitors?”

“It appears that way, Dr. McCoy.”

“Surely, there are ceremonial robes that would be appropriate. Some old silk gown lying around or a moth-eaten leopard skin would‘ve done nicely. I‘m not particular.”

“Perhaps they have not learned weaving techniques or how to dress animal skins.”

“Couldn’t they have stripped a few leaves off giant flowers?! I can see them blooming everywhere! Or thrown together some seashells in strategic places?! I can see and hear an ocean from here! Or woven together some bird feathers?! I can see birds flying in the sky by thousands!”

“Apparently that sort of technology has never come to this civilization, Doctor.”

“They have space ships, damn it! Couldn’t they have thought to have picked up some clothing on a neighboring planet?! Even bolts of material could’ve helped! They could wrap cloth around themselves, like Earth’s Classical people did! Let them look like Rome's Julius Caesar or Greece's Aristotle! I wouldn‘t care if they looked like college drama majors putting on a play by Aristophanes! At least, they‘d be covered!”

Spock glanced at the windows. Flowery curtains billowed in the breeze from ceiling to floor. “I believe that they do have access to material, but they dress their windows and not themselves with it.”

“Figures. But why put up curtains?! Anything to be seen inside can be seen outside!“

“Maybe the warm climate has never necessitated the wearing of protective clothing.”

“Well, I think I need protective covering! For my eyes! Not everyone should be walking around naked, least of all some of the older people such as Prince Elluride.”

A knock sounded on the door and McCoy answered.

“Prince Elluride!” His appearance flustered McCoy. “We were just speaking of you!“

“I hope that you were kind, Dr. McCoy.“

Spock saw McCoy cross his fingers behind his back and knew that a lie was coming to McCoy’s lips. Spock knew that not even crossed fingers would nullify a lie for a Vulcan. Earthlings had such strange rules and beliefs.

“We were remarking how unique your planet is!”

Spock nodded to himself. Not exactly a lie, and perhaps McCoy would not have even needed to have crossed his fingers for the statement he’d made.

“But why are you standing in the hallway, Prince, when it’s your hallway?! Come in! Come in!” McCoy stepped aside so the prince could enter. “We thought that we wouldn’t see you until the official dinner reception this evening.”

“I am breaking protocol by coming here unscheduled to your quarters.”

“Well, rules are made to be broken! Just as long as they aren’t shattered too much! Ha! Ha! Be seated, your grace.”

The prince did, then McCoy sat down.

“I will come right to the point, gentlemen. I could tell that you were quite alarmed by our state of undress. I hope that will not cause you any consternation during your visit.”

McCoy grinned wryly. “We were, ah, just discussing that situation, your grace. We would actually feel more at ease in our clothing.”

“But it will not be appropriate attire while you are on our planet. You will get all sorts of curious scrutiny from our populace. They are not accustomed to people who wish to hide themselves from view.”

“Well, you see, it is, ah, more than our custom. We do it for modesty’s sake.”

“Modesty? That is not a concern with my people.”

“It is with ours. We do not wish for everyone to have a clear view of our physical faults.”

“But when they are hidden, do they not cause all sorts of speculation?”

“Well, yes, and that has created a whole body of sexual literature, tribal customs and taboos, governmental laws, social practices, psychological problems, and just plain hang-ups.”

“Hang-ups?” Prince Elluride echoed.

“Another term for psychological problems, but more in slang speak.”

“I see.” But it was plain that Prince Elluride didn’t.

How come McCoy had the feeling that he was trying to explain something to Spock?

Speaking of Spock, where the hell was he? Shouldn’t he be in here discussing and explaining? Why had he decided now to do his impression of the Sphinx?

McCoy looked around. Spock was standing a few feet away with his arms crossed across his chest. Great. His stance showed that he wanted no part of this interrelating. Not only that, his face showed he was passing critical judgment on McCoy’s performance and not finding it successful at all. When McCoy had a chance to get a hold of him, his green ass was going to have some serious explaining to do.

In the meanwhile, though, McCoy had to pay attention to Prince Elluride who was, bless his heart, trying his best to explain matters to the uncomprehending visitors.

“And we have no need for hang-ups, as you call them, Dr. McCoy. Nothing is hidden. We have no sexual crimes nor need for pornographic literature because all is known at a glance. There is no mystery about our bodies.”

“But don’t you ever wish for a little mystery in your life?”

“We do have mystery, other mysteries which you may consider as already being solved to your satisfaction. Perhaps there are questions which your native societies have long since accepted at face value, but which puzzle us very much and cause great debate. It is, after all, all in how we perceive matters, is it not?” he asked with a pleasant smile.

For all of his simple ways, Prince Elluride was a wise person. And becoming wiser to McCoy the longer they talked.

In the end, they decided to hold the matter and discuss it later. McCoy could tell that Prince Elluride was tiring and needed to rest before the evening meal. His eyes were beginning to droop, and so was his penis.

 

McCoy and Spock arrived for the dinner in their best dress uniforms. They were prepared to go down with the Enterprise if need be, but they still did not know if they could appear nude in a roomful of people. There was only so much that the honor of their profession could ask of them, and they had drawn a line. At least, for this evening.

Prince Elluride approached them as they stood in the doorway of the receiving room. Other guests milled around, cocktails in hand, long hair draped high on their heads, elegant jewelry twinkling on women’s wrists and around their necks. Men wore either braided belts with fine tassels on them or diamonds studded in the worked designs. Thin ribbons were intricately woven through women’s pubic hair and trailed down away from men’s penises. So that’s how they observed a white tie affair on Guakos. They dressed up their, ah, pubic areas.

McCoy was impressed. He wondered if people did they own pussy weaving (for that was what he immediately dubbed the art), or if there was a special group of pussy weavers who had their own guild. He wondered idly what the emblem was for their guild, and if the business was passed by hand, so to speak, down through the generations.

Prince Elluride smiled and headed in their direction. He was gaily decked out in thin red ribbons with white polka dots. The pattern sort of matched the older gentlemen’s genitalia. McCoy wondered idly what disease that reflected, and if he and Spock should be concerned about catching it from a handshake. Likely as not, that sort of thing was not passed by a handshake.

“I see that you gentlemen are still clothed?” 

“Well, yes, one’s own nudity takes a little getting used to, you know?” McCoy answered.

“Tomorrow will be soon enough. Won’t you be seated, please? We are about to consume the evening meal.”

Spock and McCoy sat, and a moment later went zooming off the other side of their chairs to land in an awkward sprawl on the floor.

“Whoa! I don’t know what happened there!” McCoy apologized as he pulled himself to his feet. “Spock? Are you okay?” McCoy asked as he looked over at the First Officer pulling himself up off the floor.

“I believe so. That came as something of a surprise. Are you okay, Doctor?”

“Nothing bruised but my pride. And you can still talk, so I’m assuming that you’re fine.”

Spock frowned at him, but McCoy ignored it.

“I must apologize to you gentlemen,” Elluride said.

“Were those chair seats polished?” McCoy wanted to know. “I’ve never gone that fast before on a smooth surface without ice skates on my feet.”

“We do that so that our posteriors slide on the chair seats,” Elluride explained. “Otherwise, our bare skin would cause us to stick.”

“So, they are polished.”

“Yes, Doctor. Seating surfaces are treated with an ultra slick silicon spray.” He smiled indulgently. “I imagine that a clothed person would experience the same results if trying to sit on ball bearings.”

“How come we didn’t slide off our chairs and sofas in our suite?” McCoy inquired.

“That furniture was all upholstered.“ 

McCoy gave his chair a wary look. “There should be warning signs on these wooden chairs. Something like ‘Hold a tight ass while sitting’ would be a huge help.”

Spock knew by that remark that McCoy was annoyed. “Doctor, it is the custom of these people to handle their unique problem in a manner which has proven to be most helpful to them. It is not our prerogative to offer criticism.”

“We might as well sit on the floor to start with then, because that’s where we’re going to wind up. It’s either that, or skip dinner. And that’s not about to happen. The food looks, and smells, delicious.”

“And it is always a wise decision to feed Dr. McCoy, Prince Elluride,” Spock advised. “He is known to become quite cranky, otherwise.”

“Hey! You aren’t the most pleasant thing to be around when you‘re hungry, either! Vulcan or not, you‘re still a man just like any other when it comes to his stomach!” McCoy snapped.

“Might I offer a suggestion, gentlemen?”

Spock and McCoy looked at Prince Elluride with their full attention.

“Why don’t you lower your garments so that you are seated with your bare bottoms on the chairs?”

Spock and McCoy looked at each other.

“I don’t know--”

“It is a most logical solution, Doctor.”

“Do you intent to sit at the dinner table with your pants lowered as if you were taking a dump?!”

“Please. Doctor. There are ladies present.”

“That’s why I don’t want to lower my britches!”

“I believe that we may lower our garments in a discreet manner, Doctor.”

“Are you going to do this ridiculous thing?!” McCoy hissed.

“It is either that, Doctor, or spend the evening picking ourselves up from the floor. Or perhaps we could simply sit on the floor from the start, but then we could not see the faces of the other diners or even our own plates. Our view from under the table would certainly not be of our companions‘ faces.”

McCoy breathed deeply in consternation. The damn Vulcan was right about the view they'd have. And it was not the pleasantest of prospects for an evening's entertainment. But they'd certainly know who wore what pubic decorations.

“Of the three choices available to us, Doctor, lowering our clothing is the wisest option.”

“We do have another choice, Spock! We could leave!”

“Without our dinner, Doctor? I, for one, am hungry. I believe that we discussed that fact earlier. And we would be rude if we left a dinner that is being held in our honor.” He studied McCoy. “It is only logical, Doctor.”

“I just wish you didn’t always have to be so damn right!”

They watched each other, then simultaneously unzipped their pants and pulled them down in one smooth maneuver as they sat. Young ladies taking debutante training would have been proud of their unpracticed ease. 

Spock and McCoy looked at each other in triumph. Not only did they get their clothing lowered, but they did not slide off the chairs again. All in all, a diplomatic victory.

One social crisis down, but who knew how many more to follow?


	3. Chapter 3

“Well, here we are, Spock, without our best bib and tucker,” McCoy said the next morning as they greeted each other in their suite. He felt a little ridiculous standing there with air drafts drifting all around his skinny legs. He made a pointed effort to keep his eyes on Spock’s face, although he had to remind himself that Spock was his patient. But he’d never seen his patient on his feet, unclothed, and preparing to head out the door for breakfast.

“I trust you slept well, Doctor,” Spock said without looking down, either.

Good. They well might stub their toes and bark their shins on low-lying objects, but they had made a pact not to study each other’s, ah, dingly-dangly. So, they were prepared not to acknowledge the elephant, ah, bare dingly-danglies in the room.

“Very well, thank you, Mr. Spock. And you?”

“Quite well, Doctor. The lack of sleepwear was very freeing.”

“Ah, yes. Very freeing. Very freeing, indeed.” McCoy glanced at the door. “Well, how are we going to do this? Just open the door and foray out like we do this every day?”

“A moment, Doctor.” He reached for something. “I took the liberty of ‘borrowing’ our cloth table napkins from dinner last night. I thought that they might come in handy today.”

“Bless your quick thinking. Ah, what shall we do with the napkins? Tie them around ourselves like a type of scarf, as if trying to protect ourselves from the slightest breeze? Won‘t the pubic hair still show?”

“Well, if we had some sort of belt or string, then we could attach the napkin as a front flap. The gentlemen last night were using a similar string for dress wear without, of course, the front flap.”

“A dinner napkin might be alright for your use, but I think that I might need a dishtowel to do myself justice!”

“Now, Doctor, are you bragging already this morning?”

“Well, if it was colder, maybe I could get by with something shorter.”

“Are you saying that you may be in danger of bruising your knees from your swinging third leg?”

“Now you’re getting downright snide, Vulcan!”

“Doctor, I am not the one who started this discussion about the inadequate coverage of a dinner napkin. Might I add that a dinner napkin was not designed nor intended for penile camouflage in this, or any, society.”

In the end they settled on draping the napkin low over their arms. Of course, their arms had to dangle quite low, also, but the compromise was better than nothing.

“Might I take your breakfast order this morning, Doctor?” Spock asked smartly as they left their suite. “I understand that the finnan haddock is quite tasty today. But I would not recommend the snapper. It is so fresh that there is danger that it is still snapping. Gentlemen, especially, should take note of that possible threat. Of course, the snapper would also pose a threat to ladies‘ breasts.”

“Shut up, Spock, or I’ll be using both napkins and you’ll have nothing but your hands and your big mouth to cover yourself. Of course, in your case, that will probably be more than adequate. In fact, only one hand in the form of a fist would do nicely.”

“Doctor. Must we labor under the pressure of cutting remarks about penile size? I propose that we have other problems to consider. For instance, things like a sudden draft might ruin our carefully selected camouflage.”

“In the case of a brisk wind arising, Spock, I would suggest seeing how wide your hands can spread. One hand might suffice, however.”

“Please, Doctor, are we back to that?”

“There has to be some reason why you Vulcans love to touch each other with just two fingers! Is it because that is all that it requires to cover your most important assets?! And that‘s the mean by which you measure valuable resources?”

“At least we have something to measure. Ah! Here we are back in society, and I believe I see our host waiting for us,” Spock said and left McCoy sputtering.

You won that round, Vulcan, McCoy thought. I have to give you one occasionally. “Prince Elluride!” he greeted genially, knowing that it would nettle Spock that he had recovered so quickly. When dealing with an obstinate Vulcan, you gonna develop acting skills.

Prince Elluride met them at the door to the breakfast room. “Good morning, gentlemen. Let me escort you to a table that has been set up for our use. That way you will not have to go through a breakfast line.“

“We appreciate that very much, your grace,“ Spock said as he and McCoy seated themselves with him at the round table.

“I see a vast improvement in your attire, gentlemen. Or lack of it,” Elluride said with a twinkle in his eyes. “I knew you would come around, in time.”

“Please be patient, your grace. Spock and I have been on your planet less than twenty-four hours.”

“You are adapting rather well for first timers. I expect that I would take quite a deal longer learning to wear clothing on your home planets.”

“Well, if you didn’t, you would spend a lot time in jail. It’s a crime to run around naked on Earth. It’s called indecent exposure.”

Elluride frowned. “Indecent? As if it was morally wrong?”

“That right,” McCoy answered. “In my native land, clothing is next to godliness.”

“I thought that was cleanliness, Doctor.”

“Shut up, Spock.” McCoy turned back to Prince Elluride. “Anyway, we suffer a lot about morality on Earth and have a lot of guilty feelings about it. You might say that we are morally constipated.”

“And that is better than the practices on my planet?”

“I’m beginning to think that it isn’t.”

“Ah, I knew we could win you over,” Elluride said with a pleasant smile. “Maybe tomorrow you will even be able to return your dinner napkins to laundry so that they can be freshly laundered. I expect they may have picked up more body scent than they generally do,” he said with some distaste.

“Of course,” McCoy agreed while thinking that his tricorder would become his newest accessory. Spock was on his own for sufficient coverage. The Vulcan was clever. He’d come up with something. There were always his hands.

“Ah!” Prince Elluride exclaimed. “Here comes my lovely daughter! Demetria, my pet! And how are you today?”

“Excellent, Papa,” she said as she bent to kiss his cheek.

McCoy and Spock both saw her ample breasts swing forward, but neither acknowledged it to the other. They both hoped, though, that the comely sight would not cause a stir in their napkins draped across their laps. It wasn’t the napkins they feared, but what would be causing a stir beneath them.

“You’ll forgive us if we don’t rise completely, your grace” McCoy said to Demetria as he and Spock rose up in their chairs slightly. Then he almost blushed from the double meaning of what he had just said. The young lady should forgive them if they did rise completely, and McCoy didn‘t mean from their chairs.

“Don’t worry, gentlemen,” Demetria said as she settled in her own chair. “I know all about men and their ‘morning thing.’ It has been known to curdle fruit juice.” 

That time McCoy did blush a deep red, and he noticed that Spock was a richer shade of green. Maybe blushing was good for the complexion. They were certainly doing enough of it.

 

Spock was standing behind a Boston fern on a low pedestal. The plant hit Spock in a most strategic spot, and the Vulcan gave the appearance of wearing a green water display that was erupting and spewing from his pubic area.

McCoy looked at Spock with amusement. He had noted Spock lurking behind chairs and desks, but this fern was in a pot and therefore mobile. “Is that your new best friend?” 

“I call him ‘Fred.’”

McCoy laughed. “Are you planning on taking ‘Fred’ everywhere with you?”

“I will follow ‘Fred’ anywhere. Where he leads me, I shall follow. I do not plan on losing ‘Fred’ anytime soon.”

“Now you’re the king of the one-liners, too?”

“Whatever it takes, Doctor. You do not seem to want to share your tricorder.”

“And I won’t. But won’t our hosts get suspicious about ‘Fred?’”

“Oh, ‘Fred’ is very social. Blends in anywhere. And is an excellent listener.”

“Stop it! Stop it!”

“Sometimes the only way to approach a delicate situation is humorously.”

“An excellent way to view our present dilemma. But you can’t spend our entire visit by hiding behind desks and chairs or by toting around a plant.”

“You have your tricorder. It is amazing how you take that everywhere to check the health of people. I knew you were dedicated to the practice of medicine, but I did not realize that it had reached this extent of research. Are you planning on publishing a paper on the health conditions found on the planet of Guakos when we return to cooler climes where clothing is not looked upon as being something suspect?”

“Who knows what I’ll do, Spock. In the meantime, keep your legs crossed if the gnats start hovering over you. Elluride says that can be a terrible problem on a hot summer day when the air is still.”

 

“Tell me something of the history of your planet,” McCoy said. “For instance, how did the planet get its name of Guakos?”

Prince Elluride smiled. “It actually is a direct reference to our most famous natural resource, guano.”

“Bat shit,” McCoy muttered without thinking. “I’m sorry. That’s what it means on Earth. Surely, it has some other, more refined significance here on Guakos.”

“Actually, not,” Prince Elluride confirmed with a smile. “It refers to our national bird, the egg shitters, and its waste products which are high in fertilizing nutrients.”

“The, ah egg shitters?” McCoy repeated while trying to keep a combination of amazement and mirth out of his voice and eyes. 

“Yes, because when you think about it, that is actually what birds do. Eggs and feces come out of the same orifice on birds.”

McCoy nodded at the logic of the explanation of the bird name. It was beautiful in its simplicity, actually. Spock should appreciate that fact, if Spock was anywhere to be found. He had been making himself scarce for the last few days. McCoy could only hope that Spock was deep in commercial leaders or visiting with local educators. There were so many areas out there that would surely pique Spock’s special interests.

“Anyway, the guano of the egg shitters is particularly rich in nutrients and are much desired on other planets. Of course, our farmers on Guakos readily make use of a product that is practically under their feet, so to say,” the prince commented with a wry chuckle.

McCoy smiled along with the prince. Elluride was a kindly soul and very accommodating. He was very willing to share his time with McCoy. That made the doctor uneasy until McCoy figured out that Elluride really didn’t have that many duties to perform. The planet had cheerful, happy, industrious people residing on it. Maybe there was something to this nudity thing not making people secretive and plotting.

“The story about how the planet got its name has been passed down through spoken lore since the dawn of time,” Elluride continued, warming to his topic. “The egg shitters roamed freely, much as they do now. They quickly became beloved by our people and remain so to this day. They are an awkward, simple-minded bird, but lovable in their way. Anyway, the people learned that the birds’ droppings would help grow tall and sturdy plants. They said that ‘the guano was chosen by the people.’ As time passed, people referred to the planet by that name, or its shortened version, ‘the guano was chosen.’” He gave McCoy a wise smile. “I believe you can see where this story is headed.”

“’The guano was chosen,’” McCoy repeated slowly, then smiled. “Guano chose. Guakos! Of course! Verbal shorthand!”

“You understand very well, Dr. McCoy. Yes, the egg shitters are beloved by our people. They are tame and like to walk among us. You know you have been warned about taking naps outside.”

“Yes. Mr. Spock and I will not do that. Especially since we’re running around now in the altogether. I don’t know if we’re comfortable enough with nudity to sleep outside that way.”

“I would not recommend it. There is another danger from the egg shitters sitting on people and crushing them.”

McCoy frowned. “Oh?”

“They have been known to peck at women’s breasts and deliver quite a sharp wound to that tender flesh. More than one woman has lost a nipple that way.”

“Ouch! The egg shitters aim for the nipple?”

“Apparently, the areola serves as a target for them, and the nipple is the bull’s eye.”

“I don’t blame your women for being cautious around those birds, then.”

“It is worse for the men, though.”

McCoy frowned. “Worse for men? How could that be?”

“It is the reason why we so adamantly cautioned you and Mr. Spock. You see, the egg shitter birds could not differentiate between your penis and a snake.”

McCoy’s eyes widened. He had a sneaking hunch where this story was headed.

“If a egg shitter comes along and sees a sleeping man, it may very well lean over and with its sharp beak--”

“Stop! I believe that I’m getting the picture! That has to smart some!”

“Not only that, but some men have lost their penises that way.”

“The injury is that horrendous?!”

“The beak is that sharp.”

McCoy grimaced.

“My own brother fell victim to an egg shitter’s nasty beak.”

McCoy frowned. “Really? Your brother?”

“Yes. Erdinand was the Crown Prince. I was destined to a quiet life of managing a guano farm until Erdinand suffered his attack.”

“Really? It’s odd that your brother would have taken the chance to nap outside when he knew the danger.”

“Oh, he knew the danger. But he was drinking our strong native mead one night and passed out. No one ever has figured out how he come to be sleeping outside to get over his hangover, but that is where an egg shitter found him out in the gardens. We heard the squawk from the palace.”

“Your brother?”

“The egg shitter. Apparently, the birds have learned that penises make a tasty snack. The bird was celebrating its find.”

McCoy squeezed his eyes shut in a grimace of horror. “I’ll be sure to make my warning to Spock extra strong.”

“I would appreciate that. I would hate for a visitor to suffer the fate of my brother. It would so detract from our new resort business.”

“Not to say that it would probably piss off your visitor, too. He‘d come here being able to urinate like any other guy. He‘d leave having to squat like a woman.”

“That is so true, Doctor. After Erdinand’s attack, he could no longer be considered to be the Crown Prince, of course. He couldn’t reproduce. The egg shitter had aimed low and had managed to take the whole package. He was a eunuch without even the fountain to urinate. He had lost the purpose for which he had been raised. So the robe of rule descended upon my shoulders,” he tried to say modestly.

McCoy idly wondered how much Elluride had to do with his brother Erdinand’s disfigurement. Erdinand’s accident had raised Elluride from a life of managing a guano farm to being ruler of the planet. It would be rather tempting for a younger son to tamper in his own brother's fate.

“Whatever happened to your brother?”

“The last I heard, he was seen galloping on all fours after some gazelles.”

“He’s feral?! Couldn’t you take him in?”

“I could. But no stockade can hold him. He scampers like a monkey. He’ll climb over anything. Barbed wire. Bayonets. Says it doesn’t bother him to try. He says he has nothing left to lose.”

Poor dumb bastard had that right, McCoy decided.


	4. Chapter 4

McCoy began to realize what Spock was doing with his time. He was seeing a woman, and not just any woman.

“Spock, what are you doing with Princess Demetria?”

Spock looked evasive. “I have done nothing with Princess Demetria. Yet.”

“Spock, Spock, Spock, what am I going to do with you?”

“You wanted me to loosen up some and enjoy life. You suggested that perhaps I should become friendly with a young lady. I am simply following your advice, Doctor.”

“I repeat. Just what are you and Princess Demetria doing together?”

“That is not the question which you asked me originally, so you cannot be repeating it.”

McCoy thought it through. “Well, I suppose it isn’t the same question. But, don‘t try to distract me! Are you more prepared to answer this question than the original one, then?”

“I could, within reason, say that it is none of your business, Doctor,” Spock answered, showing some stubbornness.

“Ordinarily, I’d go along with that, but not this time. You are part of a diplomatic mission, and the young lady is the daughter of our host and the ruler of this planet. There is a little more at stake than your libidos and a little fun on the side! Besides, Jim would roast my butt if some interplanetary incident arises from a blunder made by us.”

“If a blunder is made concerning me, then it is my fault, not yours.”

“No, Spock, it would rest on my head. Despite the fact that you outrank me on the Enterprise, I was appointed the head of our duo visiting this planet.”

Spock frowned. “Are you certain about that?”

“Yes, I am. You are super intelligent and a whiz at most things; but on a social scale, you fail miserably. Jim wanted someone in charge that thought like a human being, not like a computer. And, buddy, you aren’t that person!”

“It seems illogical that the captain would choose someone as illogical as yourself,” Spock sniffed with disdain.

“It was for that very reason that I was chosen! Now tell me what is going on between you and Demetria. You two must be doing something while I am patiently listening to her father telling me all sorts of information about this fantastic world of his. You should be hearing some of his stories. Everything else fascinates you.”

“Princess Demetria and I are outside a lot, out in the fields. You must understand that the world of nature is Demetria’s natural venue, not a house. Her name means ‘harvest,’ you know.”

“No, I didn’t know. What else do you two do outside in the fields, besides contemplating the prospects for a good harvest and a winter without hunger?”

“Well, we have gone horseback riding bareback.”

“Horseback riding?” McCoy echoed. “You two rode naked on horseback?!”

“And bareback. We did not use saddles.”

“Alright. Bareback. I’m sorry I’ve missed seeing that. It must be quite a sight: a Vulcan and a naked woman gamboling over hill and dale, twin naked asses twinkling in the sunshine.”

“The horses are gamboling, Doctor, not us. We are simply riding.”

“Yes, but still it must be quite a sight.”

Spock smiled fondly. “She is grace personified.”

McCoy snorted. “The girl or the horse?! The horse is the one moving muscles, as you just informed me. All Demetria is doing is hanging on.”

Spock looked wise. “Ah, but she does it so gracefully.”

McCoy made a sound that wasn’t even speech.

“Are you experiencing a problem with your vocal apparatus, Doctor?”

“No, just my credulity. I’m trying to visualize a princess of the realm riding butt naked bareback. That’s just too much naked flesh, both hers and the horse’s.”

“When the horse is at a gallop, Demetria’s body moves up and down in rhythm with the hoof beats. Her voluptuous breasts lift skyward and then soar downward in the most hypnotic affect. It is rather like a swing pumping up and down.”

McCoy rubbed the back of his neck. Other things pumped up and down. Surely the Vulcan wasn’t missing that comparison. Could that be what really had him so mesmerized?

Spock almost chuckled. “But when the horse is walking, it causes Demetria’s breasts to jiggle up and down in the most hypnotic way--”

“That’s it! No more horseback riding for you two!”

“But, but, why? We enjoy that activity so much.”

“Because it won’t be long before you two are doing other activities that ‘pump up and down in the most hypnotic way!’”

“Doctor. You misunderstand--”

“I know what’s really going on! I recognize pre-sexual activities when they ride up on a golden steed and stare me in the face!”

“How did you know that her horse is a palomino?”

“That’s not the point! No more sex, ah, horseback riding for you together! I don’t care how much you do separately, but not together! Ride your damn horse to death! Clear the planet of palominos! But stop having sex on a horse with that girl!”

“Doctor. She is on her horse, and I am on mine. True, I am quite endowed and I am quite proud of that fact. But there is no way that I could even reach Demetria from that distance, let alone--”

“I don’t care! Urban legend or not, there’s a long history of girls becoming impregnated without penetration! Sperm crawl!“

“But they do not fly, Doctor. I am over here, and Demetria is over there--“

“I don’t care if there’s an ocean between you two! No sex! No crawling sperm! No flying sperm! It hasn’t happened to Demetria before! And it’s not going to happen this time! Not on my watch!” McCoy put on his best Victorian spinster face and attitude. “If the young lady’s father does not put a stop to this nonsense, then I must! No more seeing that girl!”

“But, Doctor, was not one of your projects on this trip to get me acquainted with a young lady?”

“A young lady, yes! Not the ruler’s daughter! Go hunt up a scullery maid, or a lonely matron, if you want some adventures in the sack! But not Demetria!”

“But I do not have eyes for them.”

“Spock, it’s not your eyes I‘m concerned about!”

“I believe that you are being unfair, Doctor. And I object.” And with that, Spock turned and left.

McCoy blinked. Spock was rebelling? At his age?!

Maybe Spock hadn’t rebelled when he was an adolescent. McCoy could see Sarek suppressing something like rebellion, especially sexual experimentation, in a teenager. And if Sarek hadn’t done it, then that whole Vulcan planet would’ve repressed anybody. All of that arid, red burning rock would’ve scorched the soul right out of anybody. And sexual fervor, also.

And while McCoy was at it, why was he so pissed that Spock was finally getting lucky? Then he realized that he wasn’t mad at Spock, but at Demetria. She was the temptress that was leading Spock astray, and McCoy didn’t like one bit that she was able to do that. That shameless hussy! Leading Spock astray!

 

Several days later, McCoy was walking outside and paused when he recognized a plant standing at an odd place in the gardens behind the palace.

“Fred, what are you doing out here on this lovely day?” McCoy muttered to the fern. “Taking your daily constitutional?” He looked around. “And where’s your best buddy? Did he go off and leave you teetering on this birdbath on purpose, or do you just like to dare yourself?” 

Then McCoy became aware of low voices and soft laughter. He tiptoed through some bushes and stopped. Dead ahead was Spock’s bare rump in all its glory, and that was a mighty pretty sight for McCoy to behold. The doctor might’ve enjoyed it longer, but McCoy realized that the Vulcan was bent over and seemed to be talking to a plank on the side of a small shed. And was having quite an animated conversation with a knothole that was in the plank.

The Vulcan had lost his senses for sure, McCoy decided. First ferns and now knotholes. Something in the atmosphere of this strange world had affected Spock. Maybe some allergy or primitive spore had set up a colony inside Spock’s internal system. Perhaps in his brain, even. That would explain a lot of things: his interest in Demetria, his rebellion, his not listening to reason. 

And then McCoy heard the name of Demetria. Demetria must be inside that shed talking through the knothole in the plank! Why were they doing that?! McCoy thought of Pyramus and Thisbe, the tragic lovers in Ovid’s “Metamorphoses” whose families were feuding, so the young lovers talked to each other through a crack in the wall. Shakespeare eventually used the story for the basis of his “Romeo and Juliet.”

But why were Spock and Demetria acting out the story? Could it be because McCoy had told Spock to stop seeing Demetria? Well, Spock certainly wasn’t ‘seeing’ Demetria. Not technically. Spock was obeying McCoy’s orders, and the couple were making a game of it.

Then McCoy thought of another Shakespearean play, “Midsummer’s Night Dream,” in which a play within the play is given based on the story of Pyramus and Thisbe. But the version in “Midsummer’s Night Dream” is a crude farce and not romantic at all. Not like “Romeo And Juliet” had been. What Spock and Demetria were doing seemed to echo “Midsummer’s Night Dream,” instead of “Romeo And Juliet.”

Maybe Spock was in his second childhood. McCoy thought that over, though, and decided that Spock never had a happy childhood the first time around. Why would Spock want a repeat of that? Could McCoy by rights interrupt Spock’s fun now? It was just harmless flirting with Demetria, wasn’t it?

McCoy tiptoed away. He didn‘t have to decide right now about Spock and his shenanigans. “You’re on your own, Fred,” he muttered to the fern as he passed it. “I hope Spock remembers to bring you back inside the palace. You might get forgotten in the wake of Spock‘s lusts.”

For some reason, McCoy could relate to Fred.

 

“Dr. McCoy! Here!”

McCoy followed the lovely, unclad Demetria into a shadowy corridor in the palace. It sounded like the start of a great locker room story, but it involved a princess of the realm and Spock’s current love interest. Therefore, for those two reasons, she was untouchable to McCoy, no matter how tempting she might be. And she possessed lovely attributes, so this was going to be a test of character on McCoy‘s part. The way she had always acted around Spock indicated that any guy was going to have to put the brakes on any relationship, because Demetria certainly didn‘t seem to be the one to do that.

Even as darkness swallowed them up, though, McCoy got more than an indication of how things might play out. For just then, Demetria grabbed McCoy in her arms for a full body hug and pulled him further into the shadows.

Here we go, McCoy thought. Southern gentleman, or roue. Roue was a strong favorite, if that signal from McCoy’s lower abdomen meant anything.

No. Friend. You’re Spock’s friend. Remember?

Damn it! Spock’s friend.

McCoy grabbed her arms and pushed her a prissy distance away from his aware body. No use letting her know how willing he could be. “Princess, I must tell you right off. While I am flattered by your attentions, I cannot accept any further interest from you. You see, Spock is my friend and I--”

“What are you cackling about, McCoy?!” Demetria demanded as she finally decided that they were alone and would stay that way long enough for her to talk to him.

That question from the lovely Demetria crushed any romantic notions that McCoy might have secretly harbored about the comely young miss.

“Did you wish to speak with me?” he asked diplomatically, and McCoy amazed even himself with his objectivity. 

Except for his southern climes. 

Down, McCoy, Jr!

“Of course, I wish to speak with you! You are McCoy, are you not?!”

Apparently, she wasn’t noted for her brainpower or deductive reasoning. McCoy nodded. “I am McCoy.” He thought he’d try a grin, because he was rather at a loss here. He was getting all sorts of signals from the princess which he must be misinterpreting. “At least I was, the last time I checked.”

“What?!” His wit was apparently lost on her.

“Never mind. You wished to speak with me, your highness?” There. At last! Objectivity! McCoy, Jr., slinked back into his home, disgusted with McCoy, Sr., for missed opportunities and for alerting him unnecessarily.

“Your friend Spock is my friend, too,” Princess Demetria stated.

“I noticed that.”

She frowned. “What?!”

Damn it, the girl had no discernible sense of humor or irony, either! What in the hell was Spock seeing in her, anyway?! What was the attraction?! It couldn’t be her brains.

McCoy glanced down at the nubile breasts barely discernible in the dim light, but still discernible. He thought about the golden triangle located just a little further south of those wondrous, supple breasts.

McCoy, Jr., stirred. Had McCoy, Sr., renewed his interest?

Never mind, McCoy answered his own question of what Spock had seen in her. Of course, McCoy knew what was attracting Spock to the girl. Wasn’t this the sort of attraction what McCoy had always wanted Spock to explore? 

Well, then, McCoy had nobody to blame but himself. But he was certain that twinge he felt was jealousy.

Perhaps he was being too obscure with the girl, although he didn’t know if he could make all of his sentences contain words of only one syllable. This girl must not too far advanced beyond six basic crayon colors and nursery rhymes. And, oh, yeah, sexual arousal.

“How may I help you, Princess?” There! Everyone wanted to know what was in it for them. So would Demetria.

“You may have noticed that Spock and I are very good friends. We have met in obscure places.”

McCoy thought of poor Fred the fern being abandoned in all sorts of dark corners and left on scary heights. No plant was meant to travel where Fred was been taken by Spock. Surely, Fred was beginning to tire of the life of the fearless explorer.

“Yes, Princess.” He decided that he would make no side comments to her, or he’d never learn what Demetria wanted of him.

“Spock wants to seal our friendship.”

Oh, hell, McCoy thought. Don’t blink. Don’t gasp. Don’t remark!

“Yes, Princess.” He had a thousand questions, but it boiled down to why he was getting to learn about an assignation between Princess Demetria and Spock. Spock wouldn’t approve of McCoy’s knowing.

“This cannot happen, McCoy.”

Blink. Damn! He couldn’t help it. He had to blink.

Princess Demetria didn’t want a proper assignation?

Questions in McCoy’s mind now changed to one: Are you a cock-tease, Princess?

“I am to be married soon, McCoy. I was just having fun with your friend.”

Well, Spock wasn’t just having fun, sister, McCoy wanted to blurt.

“But I do not want to hurt his feelings. He is nice.”

That he is, McCoy thought. And Spock deserved not to be hurt. Not that way. No man did.

“But he wants me to meet him. Tonight. In the gardens.”

Oh, hell. Showdown time. Whether Demetria or McCoy wanted it to happen or not, Spock did.

“Are you still listening, McCoy? Spock wants me to meet him.”

McCoy stirred himself. “Yes. Yes, I am listening.” 

“What will we do, McCoy?”

“’We?‘ ‘We?‘ How in the hell did I get in the middle of this?! And why must I solve it?!” But even as he asked, he knew.

Diplomatic mission. The reputation of a princess. Spock’s pride.

McCoy was stunned with how fast the wheels in his head turned. For he had a sudden idea, and he saw a way for him to have a little fun and a whole lot of pleasure for himself.

“You are going to keep that rendezvous, Princess.”

“What?!”

“But it’s going to be where I tell you, with the conditions I tell you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We have to make it seem like you are meeting Spock to seal your love, just as he asked of you.”

“But, where?”

“A shed. A shed in the back of the gardens. There is a plank with a knothole missing. And you talked to Spock through that knothole.”

Demetria drew her breath in sharply. “How do you know about that knothole?!”

“Fred told me.”

“Who is Fred?!”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Just tell Spock where to meet you, and I’ll do the rest. Just show up in the shed before he does. We‘re going to have us quite a night.”

At least he was.

He hoped.


	5. Chapter 5

“Why must I be here, McCoy?” Demetria asked in the shed hours later. 

McCoy had placed dim illumination in the shed for them to see so they wouldn‘t fall over gardening supplies and implements.

“Because I need your voice. Did you tell Spock what I said?”

“Yes.”

“The time?”

“Yes.”

“The lube?” McCoy’s heart thudded when he asked that.

“Yes, but I don’t know why. Violating me with or without lubricant will still be violating me.”

“Will you just trust me?! Now, come over here.” He led her toward the missing knothole in the plank.

“What is that?” she asked, observing a strange structure with all sorts of bedding piled on it. “It looks like a sawhorse.”

Maybe the girl wasn’t as stupid or as spoiled as she appeared. “You have a keen eye, Princess. That is indeed a sawhorse. A well-padded sawhorse.”

“But what is for?” She eyeballed the sawhorse and saw that it was right next to the missing knothole. She blinked as its use became clear. “WHO is it for?!”

“Trust me.”

“Yoo hoo, Demetria,” Spock called outside in a stage whisper near the plank. “Are you here? I can see a dim light at our knothole.”

“Answer him,” McCoy instructed. 

“Yes, Spock, I‘m here,” she called.

“Tell him to look away while you prepare yourself,” McCoy ordered.

Demetria obeyed, and then Spock obeyed.

“Good. Pretend this is all happening to you, Demetria. And be ready to speak at appropriate times.” McCoy straddled the sawhorse, lay down, and pushed his naked rump into the missing knothole so that his anus was looking one-eyed into the garden.

Demetria now understood what was going to happen, and she did not need instruction. “Spock. Turn around and come closer,” Demetria called. “Come to our knothole.”

A moment passed and then Spock breathed, “Princess! How beautiful you are!”

“So you can see me.”

“I see your goodness looking out at me in the moonlight.”

“Well, that isn’t what I call it, but--”

McCoy hissed at her. “Not now! Don’t define terms now! That reminds me too much of the damn Vulcan!”

“Yes, Spock. That is my goodness.” 

Suddenly, there were shuffling sounds, Spock yelling “Shoo! Shoo!,” and some unearthly squawking noises. Banging on the shed and more squawks were heard. The shed shook slightly.

“What?!” McCoy demanded. He could feel air being fanned across his exposed anal area. Was that the brush of feathers?!

“Back!” Spock demanded. “Mine!”

“An egg shitter!” Demetria announced.

“Oh, hell!” McCoy started to pull away from the knothole.

Demetria stopped him. “Wait! I think that it’s alright. I heard running. Spock?” she asked, raising her voice. “Is the bird gone?”

“Yes. It saw your goodness, also. Its beak was headed for your bull‘s eye. Your white skin surrounded by the dark wood highlighted your goodness in the center. It was a perfect target and is so tantalizing that neither the egg shitter nor I could ignore it.”

McCoy squeezed his eyes shut. He could’ve been eviscerated.

“Thank heaven, you stopped it. You deserve a reward. Come closer and touch me.”

“Not so fast!” McCoy hissed, then sucked his breath in sharply as he was apparently fondled.

“Not so rough, lover,” Demetria admonished. “Gently. Gently. Put a little saliva on me, then you will move more easily over me. Moisture will help.”

McCoy jerked and gasped and rolled his eyes wildly, and Demetria guessed what had happened.

“Not your tongue, lover!”

“You said some moisture--”

“Sorry. My mistake. I didn’t designate your finger, did I?”

She glanced at McCoy who was grasping his hands on his wooden supports as if he was milking cow teats. But his jerking would be protested by any cow worth her cud. She would be turning and giving him the wild eye.

“Tell him… to use… lube…. And introduce… one… finger at a… time.”

Demetria repeated the message, and almost immediately McCoy began twitching. 

“Now what’s wrong, McCoy?”

“He’s dipping his finger in and out and then circling around outside and then going back to dipping! What the hell?! What the hell is he doing?!”

“Spock,” Demetria murmured. “What are you doing to me, sweetheart?”

“Every time I remove my finger, your flesh tries to follow me as if it is reaching out for me and does not want me to leave. It is so amusing.”

“McCoy?”

“I’m not doing it on purpose, damn it! It’s just a sort of automatic response! But if he keeps it up, I’ll be more than trying to follow his finger! Now, he’s circling my hole! I love it, but it’ll cause other problems! I’ll be taking a dump all over his hand, and that will ruin everyone’s romantic evening!”

“Spock. Sweetheart,” she tried to say calmly, but even McCoy could hear the humor in her voice. “Don’t tease me like that. I am not playing.”

“But it is jumping back at me. It is like a fish breaking water to snap a gnat out of the air over an evening pool. It is so delightful to watch. And to encourage.”

Demetria saw McCoy gritting his teeth. “Spock. I really must be firm with you. Did you want to spend time with me in order to make love to me or to play with my font of Venus?”

“Sorry, my sweet. I meant no disrespect.” Contriteness was in his voice.

“That is alright, dear one. Just proceed with what will make us both happy.”

The next moment McCoy jerked and swore. “Dipping! Dipping! Ramming! Inside! Oh, hell! Agg!”

“Spock!” She hissed. “Gently! Gently! Do not be so eager. I am not going anywhere. We have all night.”

“Good! I will have more times to do this then! And more fingers to insert!”

“I have to survive one,” McCoy hissed.

She glanced at McCoy who was already suffering with one alien finger rammed in his ass.

“We’ll see how one goes,” Demetria answered.

McCoy jerked.

“Two fingers?” she asked McCoy who shook his head.

“He’s raking me up and down my hips and around my hole with his other hand! And his damn nails are sharp!”

“Spock,” she called. “Not so rough. You are scratching me.”

“But you do not feel like what I thought you would feel like. You do not look right, either. There is no clitoris or inner lips. It is almost as if you had an anus where my finger is embedded.”

“Sorry if my physical makeup is different than what you expected, Spock.”

“Oh, no, no, it is not that. I am not disappointed. Just surprised. Here comes my second finger.”

McCoy gasped and broke out in a sweat.

“Relax,” Demetria whispered to him. “His fingers are big.”

“A helluva lot bigger than I thought!”

“What, Princess?” Spock asked.

“Just a little slower, lover, and a little bit more warning.” She bent to McCoy’s ear. “Two fingers? That’s all you can take?! There’s the middle finger still headed your way, not to mention the grand finale in a few minutes. Are you going to be able to do this?”

“You keep on talking, sister, and I’ll keep on spreading! Tell him to use more lube, damn it! More lube!”

“What?” Spock asked.

“More lube, lover.”

“Alright. Here is my middle finger.”

McCoy clinched from head to foot and cried out. “Shit! Pardon, but, shit!”

“What?” Spock asked. “You sounded hoarse, Princess. Your voice was deep, like a man‘s. Have you strangled?”

Well, yes and no. McCoy, yes. Demetria, no. She decided not to answer.

Demetria glanced at the exhausted McCoy with his rump in the air. She could only imagine how swollen his anal area was with those three fingers embedded up to the third knuckles in it.

“You surprised me, Spock, that’s all. I did not realize that you could do so much damage with your fingers.”

“That is just a start, Princess. I have something more than my fingers, and it will make you sing.” Spock’s voice was filled with pride. “And I will get to it now.” With that, he jerked all three fingers out, instead of one at a time.

McCoy cried out again. The sudden exit felt like he’d breech-hatched a fence post.

“Too sudden, Princess?”

She watched McCoy trying to catch his breath. “It’s done now, Spock. Just be careful when you use more than fingers.”

“Fascinating.”

“What’s that, Spock?”

“Your vagina is pulsating in and out, much as a hen’s rectum undulates after the hen has lain an egg.”

McCoy frowned up at Demetria, and they both thought the same thing.

“When did you ever watch a hen lay an egg, Spock?”

“I have been to a farm. I have seen things.”

Demetria’s eyes questioned McCoy, and he shrugged.

“Are you using a lot of lubricant, lover?”

“Yes. Are you ready for me?”

McCoy nodded and braced.

Demetria leaned down. “Perhaps you should relax. That might be better.”

Still, McCoy wasn’t prepared for the mass that was shoved up against his poor stretched, but vibrating anus. But take it, he did. With sweating and cussing and straining and trying to stay relaxed, he was quite exhausted in a matter of moments. 

But Spock was diligent in his endeavors. Then he began making noises and words that shouldn’t be associated with love making.

“Ouch! Curses! Ouch! Damn it!”

“Spock, what is wrong, lover?”

“The knothole is getting smaller,” he answered.

In as much misery as he was in with an alien penis rammed up his anus, McCoy had the insane desire to laugh.

Damn idiot, McCoy wanted to correct him. The knothole wasn’t getting smaller. Spock was getting bigger the further he sank into McCoy. McCoy could testify to that.

McCoy wanted to laugh about Spock’s naivete, but he was too busy trying to relax. All he really wanted to do was clamp down on Spock and hold him inside forever. How long had McCoy been longing for this, but not really realizing how much until this very moment.

The rest of the encounter was a blur of pain and desire and Spock’s unaccustomed cursing. The planking on the old shed rattled, but still Spock bucked against it until he was sated and satisfied.

“McCoy, McCoy,” Demetria whispered later. “Can you hear me?”

“Hmm?” McCoy moaned.

“Spock is gone. It is time for you to get back to your room.”

“In a minute. Give me a minute.” He tried moving and grimaced. “Damn Vulcan. Built like a Spanish bull just in off the range. He must enlarge in size quite a lot. Fred doesn’t know the danger he’s been in, staying in front of Spock the way he does.”

“Fred? Who is Fred?”

“Never mind.” McCoy tried to dismount from the sawhorse, then reconsidered. “My knees may be strangers for awhile.”

“You are so brave to do this for me. I will see that my father gives you a medal.”

McCoy would’ve been happier with an ice pack or even help off the sawhorse.

 

They boarded the shuttle looking and acting worse than they had arrived. Jim Kirk was going to think that the vacation hadn’t relaxed them very much, and he’d be right.

“I don’t know why you got a medal,” Spock grumbled as he headed for a seat.

“Head of the visiting team,” McCoy mumbled. Luckily, Spock bought it. “Besides, you came away with something from your visit. Fred is going with us.”

Spock eyed the Boston fern in his hand. “Fred’s heart was broken. He discovered that Sweet Fern had been seeing the palm plant in the dining room behind his back. Fred says you really can’t trust palm plants, and someday Sweet Fern will wish she had Fred back. But Fred will be long gone. He wants to travel to forget. How could I refuse him? He must not be alone now.”

“Well, then, it’s understandable.” But McCoy idly wondered if Spock really needed to be around people more and ferns less. 

McCoy knew why he was walking so stiffly. He still wasn’t recuperated from Spock’s mighty thrusts from last night. Not that he wanted to be. No, McCoy planned to relive that night for a long time to come. No complaints in that department. In fact, he wouldn’t mind an encore. Once he healed up, that was.

“Why are you walking like that, Vulcan?” he mumbled as he watched the Vulcan mincing his steps. “There are no egg shitters‘ eggs in the shuttle, so you can relax. You won‘t step on them and destroy unborn chicks. What’s your problem?”

“Nothing, Doctor.” Spock carefully sat, then stiffened his body.

“Then why are you acting like you’re sitting on cactus thorns?” By all rights, McCoy was the only one who could claim that distinction. Thorns, hell, the whole damn cactus had been shoved up his chute. He had a reason to stiffen on contact when he sat, not the one who had been shoving the cactus.

“I would rather not say, Doctor.”

“Come on,” McCoy grumbled. “I’m your doctor. You can tell me anything.”

Spock wondered if he really wanted to consult his physician, despite what the medico said. McCoy sounded awfully grumpy. Then Spock decided to take the chance. He was, after all, very uncomfortable, and his condition was probably not going to change anytime soon without medical aid.

“Well, Doctor, I seem to be having penile problems, if you must know.”

“It’s probably tired,” McCoy mumbled. McCoy knew that it sure as hell had a reason to be.

“Hmm? What?” Spock questioned. Why would McCoy say something like that?

“Forget I said that, Spock.” 

Duh, McCoy thought. He wasn’t supposed to know what Spock’s penis had been doing. On the other hand, the magnificent organ should be happy and satisfied, not hurting. What could possibly be its problem? That puzzle got the doctor’s attention.

“Come on. Tell me. Maybe I can help. What’s wrong with your penis?” 

Spock grimaced as he shifted gingerly in the shuttle seat. 

“It is something very uncomfortable, Doctor, and quite unusual,” Spock answered. “You probably will not understand, until I explain the situation.”

McCoy was beginning to lose his patience. He was tired and sore. “For heaven‘s sake, man, just spit it out! What in the hell is wrong with your damn penis?!”

Spock glanced around to see if they had been overheard. “Doctor, please.”

“Sorry. Just tell me.” McCoy was expecting to hear that Spock was experiencing soreness. Good! Maybe McCoy‘s asshole hadn‘t been the only one to feel pain. “I‘ll be understanding, Spock. And professional. Trust me. What‘s your problem?”

Spock glanced around one final time before whispering, “Wood splinters.”

McCoy burst out laughing.

There was a deity in the universe, after all!

“Doctor! You promised!”

McCoy waved him away. “Sorry. Sorry.”

“I will say nothing further to you.”

“Did you make love to Demetria?”

“Yes, and I wish to say that I did not like it.”

“Oh?” Hell, McCoy thought he’d been pretty good.

“Well, I liked the act, but later Demetria would have nothing to do with me. She used me to get what she wanted, then turned me aside. The whole experience has left me with diverse feelings.”

“Oh?”

“I am realizing that the only thing I really did enjoy was the rutting. I do not care for her at all, but I would like to have more of a relationship with the person I rutted.”

McCoy took a chance. “What if I told you that could happen?”

Spock frowned. “What are you saying?”

“You made love through a knothole in an old shed. That’s how you got splinters.”

Spock blinked. “How would you know that?!”

“And there’s a good reason why Demetria’s vagina didn’t look right to you. It was because her vagina was actually my anus.”

Spock’s eyes bulged. “Your--”

“That’s right. Mine. You fucked me,” McCoy said softly as he glanced at Spock with a smile. “Me, Spock! And I liked it.”

Wheels seemed to turn behind Spock’s eyes. “That is why you are walking so stiffly?”

“Yes.”

“I had you.”

“Yes.”

Spock settled against the headrest.

“And I want to thank you for stopping that egg shitter from pecking me, Spock. Who would’ve thought I’d have to fear a bird attack while having my asshole shoved in a knothole in the moonlight? What’s the world coming to?” He’d intended to lighten the mood, but it didn’t work.

“Demetria’s goodness, rather your goodness, looked good enough to eat. I thought so, the bird thought so. I was just luckier than the bird. I got to taste.”

“And?”

Spock shrugged. “Ice cream is better.” He folded his arms and turned aside. “Why did you do it? To save Demetria?”

“That’s what I told her. But to be honest, I saw it as my only chance to have you.”

“Why didn’t you ask? What you did was really dishonest.”

“I know, but wouldn’t you risk everything, if you thought you couldn’t get something any other way? Spock, look, I’m sorry for my part in fooling you. But I’m not sorry for the fucking. I really enjoyed it, despite the, ah, crudeness.” He saw Spock flinch. “Sorry. Knothole sex wasn’t the nicest thing I've ever done.”

“It was not nice for me, either. At least you did not suffer splinter penetration.”

Just penetration, McCoy thought, but decided not to share that thought. He realized that he’d better shut up before the Vulcan turned and strangled him. Spock’s face said that he could very easily do that.

“Can you treat my splinters?”

“Just as soon as I can.”

“Will you be healed soon?”

“Well, yes, a few days, and then I should be much better.”

“Good. I will see you in a few days then.“

McCoy frowned. “For, what?“

“A repeat.“

“A repeat?“ McCoy asked stupidly. 

Spock glanced at him. “I have lube left and can get more. And maybe this time we could start with a kiss. After all, I liked watching you walking around nude on Guakos. Maybe you can do that for me again.”

“I’m not understanding.”

“Really, Doctor, you can be dense yourself. All I can see left to decide is whose quarters should we use? Yours or mine?”

“Mine. Yours are too close to Jim’s. And I’m beginning to think he knew right where he was sending us.”

“Are you really minding about that? Now?”

The Vulcan was starting to sound pissed off. Maybe McCoy better let him know where his interests really lay.

“Darlin,’ I don’t care where we go, just so it’s somewhere handy. But if it’s all the same to you, I‘d rather be on the same side of the plank next time, though.”

“Alright. We will say no more of it.”

But McCoy wouldn‘t let it rest. “Spock.”

“If you wish to argue further--”

“I liked watching you walk around nude, too.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re going to be all huffy now, aren’t you.”

“I can assure you that I--” And he stopped.

“You can assure me of what?”

“I am trying to be angry.”

“I know you are.”

“And failing.”

“I know that, too.”

"You really should not have deceived me."

"I know."

“But you went to a lot of trouble to have me take you. How can I be angry about that? You must have wanted me very much.”

“I did. I was sneaky, but I know you’ll be fair and will give me a real chance with you. I just know that we would be so good together.”

“Do you also know that I do not want to wait for a first kiss? That I want it now?”

“No, but that is something I can do something about.”

“Then do it!”

So McCoy did.

Fred didn’t even blush at what the two men started doing to each other. He was getting to be quite cosmopolitan for an indoor houseplant. After all, Fred had started to get around more, and now he was aiming for the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now the title should make more sense.

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing of Star Trek, its characters, and/or its story lines.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Fred](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11952678) by [Esperata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esperata/pseuds/Esperata), [StellarLibraryLady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarLibraryLady/pseuds/StellarLibraryLady)




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